The Wedding
by daysandweeks
Summary: An AU romance told in five chapters and points of view. Gemma nervously prepares for her wedding, and her friends and family watch her do so with mixed feelings. Not TSFT compliant. Meaning Kartik lives, for you Karma fans.
1. The Intruder

**A/N:** _This fic is AU. I don't want to divulge every single reason right now as that may ruin parts of it. It takes place after "The Sweet Far Thing" and Kartik is alive for it. There are many other things about it that don't exactly make it canon-friendly, but I'd say it could be taken as a canon story written after "Rebel Angels" instead. (I wish I had had the idea for it then, as it's compliant to RA, but not TSFT. It takes place in the summer of 1896, however, so keep that in mind. Everything has been settled as far as the real plot goes, but changes have been made, such as Kartik not being dead/trapped in a tree.)_

The Wedding: _A Novella_

by Kate (daysandweeks)

Chapter One: _The Intruder_ **Kartik**

I feel a bit intrusive spying on Gemma like this. It's not like me to invade her personal space in such an unreasonable fashion. I can't help but keep thinking that this will be the last time I see her in such a situation, though. And so I watch her brush her hair from behind the screen carefully placed in the corner of her room. It shields me from her view, but the forbidden though of her noticing me sends a nervous, excited tingle up my spine as I watch her say goodbye to the room in her grandmother's London home for the final time.

"I can't believe it," she murmurs aloud, and her whisper startles me. For a moment, I think that it is me that she is talking to—she's discovered me after all! But no, she hasn't. She is just speaking to herself as she brushes her thick red hair. In truth, I can't believe it either. This beautiful, intelligent, feisty, passionate, clumsy, clever girl—woman—that I've gotten to know so well over the past year is to be married.

Gemma puts her brush down and stands up. She gazes at herself in the mirror for a moment, seemingly displeased with the reflection before her. I am not at all sure why. Perhaps it's that her nightgown is a bit girlish—too youthful for a woman preparing to be wed. I wonder if she'll wear something a bit more mature on her wedding night.

She turns around and my heart leaps in my chest at the stirring, forbidden prospect of her discovering me. She doesn't, though, and instead focuses her attention on the lamp before her. In an instant, it is out, and I hear her climb into her bed as my eyes adjust to the dark. Soon, I can see the contours of Gemma's body outlined below the thin sheet that covers her.

Nearly an hour passes before Gemma's breathing slows and steadies to the comfortable rhythm of sleep. She shivers once, but then settles back into a relaxed state. I note this, and step out from my hiding place to cover her with her quilt. I wonder if she will bring this or any other belongings to the marriage bed with her.

With a final gossamer kiss to her hair, I take my leave, departing through her open window. There's a certain bittersweet quality to this moment, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

She is my love, and I shall always remember that.

**A/N:** _Yes, Gemma is to be married. No, I will not tell you to whom in this chapter. However, now that you've read, please review. This story will be five chapters long and told from fives points of view. Gemma's will be the fifth and final one. Again, please review!_


	2. The Criminal

Chapter Two: _The Criminal_ **Felicity**

He presses me against the wall, his lips hovering on the skin above my neck. There is no kiss, and I can only offer my spiteful words. "You should stop this. You're going to be a married man quite shortly."

Simon lets out a gentle sigh and it tickles the nape of my neck. I resist the urge to giggle, as that certainly won't make the situation any better. "Then why aren't you walking away?" he murmurs.

I bite my lip and lightly push him away. He reacts to my touch and takes a step back, standing at his full height now. "I don't have to walk away," I firmly state. "I'm _supposed_ to be here. Gemma shall be here any minute and I'm to help her prepare for the wedding."

The idea of being caught kissing me certainly makes Simon back off. He acts as if that's not why he's leaving, though. "Fine then," he says, walking backwards. He's heading towards the door but I greatly hope that he'll run into something on the way. He raises his hands into the air, gesturing grandly. "Please do remember that this is our last chance."

It's sad how he still thinks that I care. I suppose that I did at some point, but I'm well past that phase in my life. I know who I am. I know what I want. Perhaps I should just tell him right now. Ah, but no. With that clever, bittersweet smile on his face, Simon looks too well-planned and lovely to crush.

He exits the room unscathed, and I curse the walls for not causing him at least some humiliation. I'm glad that he's left, though. If Gemma had found us, the result would not have been pretty, and that is certain. It is ridiculous how Simon is _still_ trying to keep this up, even when he's about to be married. He's not exactly content with the whole situation, but neither is his betrothed, and people rarely are completely content with their futures.

Ann enters the room long before Gemma does. We, her loyal bridesmaids, are waiting in the chapel where she is to be married. It's strange how Simon showed up here so early, especially as Gemma isn't even here yet. I know that it was probably just to catch me alone, and the thought sends me into giggles. It's quite ridiculous of him, really.

"What are you laughing at?" Ann asks, a small frown on her face. She's missed out on a joke, and that doesn't please her too much.

I shake my head and quiet my laughter so that just a smile remains on my face. "Nothing." It's a miracle that Ann is one of the wedding party. It's also quite the scandal—the woman who duped all of London society just a few moments ago is now at the wedding of the season. In fact, this whole wedding is full of scandal now that I think about it. The nature of it is less-than-normal, and Simon attempting to give it a final go just a few minutes ago adds to the strangeness.

"Gemma's not here yet?" Ann muses upon realizing that I won't divulge why I was laughing.

I'm about to answer her when Gemma enters the room, her grandmother just a few steps behind her. She's fussing with Gemma's hair but stops and blanches when she sees that the room is void of any maids. "Oh, good Lord," she says, putting a hand to her heart. "The ceremony is to begin in an hour, Gemma. And there is no one here to prepare you."

As if Gemma isn't nervous enough, this sends her into a flurry. It's been decided upon that she will not make an extremely grand entrance. Instead, she will hide away and prepare in this tiny room while the guests arrive. She will not arrive later than them or any such sort of thing. She's been very practical in that matter, so that she can prepare here and not risk ruining her dress in a wayward mud puddle on the way to the church or forgetting her orange blossoms in the carriage.

Mrs. Jones, a servant of Gemma's family, saves the day by entering the room a few steps behind Gemma and her grandmother. I smile at the absurdity of it all. For nearly thirty minutes, the room is a rush of taffeta and silk and flowers. Finally, Gemma's grandmother leaves us be, and eventually Mrs. Jones does as well, promising us a few minutes to converse and calm Gemma down.

As I help Gemma put on her earrings, whispering soothing words to her, I can't help but feel a guilty twitch in my chest. She probably wouldn't be too pleased with me if I told her of my moment with Simon just an hour before. The wall behind us serves as a reminder. I almost think that I can see us there, or at least an imprint of my body and his hand. "You look lovely," I say, and it's the first thing I've heard myself say in what feels like ages.

"Thank you," Gemma says with a nervous sigh. "And you do, too." She turns to Ann and offers her the same remark, and I can tell that she means it. Ann _does_ look lovely. It's evident that she couldn't be happier to be here, and she apparently looks quite stunning in lavender. I fear that I look a bit washed out, but don't say a word about it.

"You love him," I remind Gemma with a small smile. Perhaps it's more for me than for her. I'm not the only one apprehensive about the whole situation. "And he loves you." I can't be sure if it's true, but I feel that it is.

Gemma nods and smiles. It seems that she's calmed down a bit. "I know," she answers, placing her hand on top of mine.

Just then, Mrs. Jones pushes open the door without so much as a knock. "Miss Doyle," she says for perhaps the final time. "The ceremony is about to begin."

And with that Ann and I exit the room together. We turn to see Gemma still sitting at the small vanity that has been set up, a content smile on her face. _Today is her day_, I remind myself. _Let her live it happily_.


	3. The Apostle

Chapter Three: _The Apostle_ **Tom**

It's nerve-racking, standing up here amid all the flowers and finery. Even though all eyes are fixed at a spot nowhere near me, I feel as if I'm being scrutinized. All of my thoughts are spread before me, being completely ignored by the entire room here to see a happy day, or perhaps one that will certainly make for good gossip. Everyone is focused on Gemma, as they should be, but if they're anything like me, their minds are somewhere else entirely. Somewhere relevant to the situation, but somewhere else nonetheless.

I know that it is wrong of me, but throughout the ceremony I find myself wishing that someone will protest the union. But when the priest stays the inviting line, though, imploring everyone with any objections to speak now or forever hold your peace, no one so much as opens their mouths. I am among them, and yet I feel terribly disappointed in the congregation, and perhaps even in myself. The silence is a curse and yet it is also golden. There is Gemma with the smile on her face, and that should settle it for me.

Of course, I can't help but feel that my doubts about Gemma's marriage are well-founded. I care for her happiness, though, and so I haven't uttered a word of my misgivings for the past few months now. They always upset her and occasionally angered her in the past, and I quickly realized that it wasn't worth it to keep pestering her. She had chosen who she had chosen, or rather, he had chosen her and she had accepted. Why should I complain? And yet now my doubts lay before me, naked and vulnerable, exposed and left to die.

The couple says their final words that bind them together for eternity. A collective sigh ripples through the church and I find myself glancing at my sister, hoping to see a sudden change in her appearance. _Wait, no, I've changed my mind!_ I want her to shout. _I can't marry him. I can't._ But her smile temporarily washes away my doubt. She is in love, after all. Father is quite pleased with the match. Gemma has been talking about the honeymoon since before the wedding date was even announced. She is excited to see Paris for the first time in her life and to see Miss Worthington's home there at a short visit. She is even more excited to return to India, and to tour it with her new husband. She misses it terribly and has been raving about it for weeks no. "The food! The colors! Oh, and I should love to see Sarita. Do you think that I shall run into her, Thomas?" She even so much as asked Father for an address that our old maid could be reached at.

Her excitement should be enough to placate me, and yet it is not. I think that my scruples are justified, but others don't seem to, or I can't explain my reasoning to them in full. The fact that Gemma has just been married to someone whose family has had strong ties to the Rakshana is disturbing (and for me, embarrassing) enough. But I've witnessed indifference in their relationship before, as well as caught words from heated arguments behind closed doors. I never thought that they fought, so perhaps these arguments are a recent thing. I can't help but wonder if my sister will be happy for long.

The couple proceeds down the aisle, and those in the wedding party follow suit. I am lost in my own little world, gazing at the mixture of content, pride, and scandal written on the faces of the congregation. Father sits up front, wearing the first two expressions. Of course, Gemma has always been his favorite. Even if she hadn't chosen someone he approved of so much he would have been pleased. It's absurd, but I'm certain he approves of our old coachman, Kartik. It was made quite obvious that Gemma had a liking to him, and Father responded positively to it. But the deed is done now, and Father's approval for coachmen or noblemen or river men or kings is no longer needed.

As I reach the back of the church, it hits me that it's over. The back of the chapel feels empty, but I know that it will soon be cramped full of well-wishers and exiting guests. But I'm lost in the bittersweet moment and can't bring myself to move.

I often doubted that this moment would ever come. Gemma always seemed too disagreeable, too stubborn, too headstrong for anyone to ever want to marry. Her dalliances with Simon Middleton appeared to be a thing of the past. Her dalliances with anyone in general did, for that matter. And now that this moment has taken place, I couldn't feel more…indescribable.

There is nothing bitter about this moment, nor is there anything sweet. Marriages take place every day. People die, people are born, people fall in and out of love. And yet we go on functioning as if nothing ever changed. Tomorrow I will wake up and there will be no difference in the way I love my life. My doubts will still exist, as will my insecurities. But perhaps Gemma will feel different, and that is all I can consider right now.

Only time will tell.

**A/N:** _A note on the chapter title. This chapter is entitled "The Apostle" because Tom is, well, _doubting_. I know this has nothing to do with Jesus, but I was calling this the "Doubting Thomas" chapter, and so I chose to name it "The Apostle". You might feel that the title is completely irrelevant to the rest of the story, but depending how you look at it, the titles in the last two chapters were, too. And if you can't see why, maybe you'll be able to fairly soon._

_Anyway, please review if you've read this far. I know that a lot of people won't be too happy about the whole Simon/Gemma thing (since everyone is into Kartik/Gemma) but I implore you to keep reading. This is a romance, and if there is any type of romance in this fandom, it is Kartik/Gemma. You'll see some more, I promise. It wasn't just in the first chapter. It's not going to be a hugely romantic fic, but romance is a very important part of the story._

_That being said, review!!_


	4. The Outsider

Chapter Four: _The Outsider_** Ann**

The final carriage pulls away from the lunch party that has lasted for hours now. It is well into the evening, but no one could be pulled away from the gathering after Gemma's wedding. Guests lingered long after even Gemma departed, off to start her new life.

Felicity sighs and slumps against the side of the building next to me. "I wish Pip had been here. She would have loved to see the wedding. She would have found it terribly romantic."

"Or romantically terrible," I say, and I don't mean it in a cruel way. I'm just quoting Miss Moore, or Circe, rather. Felicity sneers at this. There was something about this wedding that left me wanting more. Perhaps I'm just worried about my friend's happiness. I've moved past my insecurities and am not bothered in the least that Gemma has been married before I have. I know that I will find someone one day, and if I don't, then I shall just have to accept what life _has_ given me.

"I don't want to go back," Felicity says with a soft sigh. She's speaking of her parents' home, as she's staying with them temporarily. She will be returning to Paris soon enough. "I shall linger here as long as possible. Do stay with me."

I nod, deciding that I shall. Not much is waiting for me in my own rooms, anyway. The wedding hasn't put me in a romantic mood. Gemma's life isn't a whirlwind romance. It's full of tragedy and accepting what you've been given. I realize that I must do this as well. And what are another few hours spent with Felicity in a fancy dress, leaning in the most unladylike of fashions against the side of the Doyles' house?

Felicity reads my mind, though, and thinks differently than I do. "We should probably leave," she advises. "Everyone else has."

--

We do not get a cab. Instead, we meander through Belgravia and towards Hyde Park. I realize that I shall always remember the night Felicity and I strolled through the park dressed as bridesmaids, two lost souls in the world. There is Felicity, who has lost her Pippa, and I, who has lost a nonexistent reputation. Today made that evident. Despite my status as a member of the wedding party, I was still received with contemptuous glances, knowing whispers, and spiteful sneers. I am _that girl_. The one who lied about her family history. Who would believe that I was the daughter of a duke, anyway? I have no beauty about me, or at least none that is immediately visible, and that is all that truly matters, anyway. Perhaps my insecurities haven't vanished after all.

"Do you think that she is happy?" Felicity's voice catches me off guard, and I jump at it. It is getting very dark and I am beginning to feel uneasy. Bad things can still happen in dark locations, even in a respectable neighborhood. Ah, but the lights are being lit now. All shall be fine.

"She is," I respond to Felicity's question. I don't just think that Gemma is happy. I know that she is. I worry about how she will feel in the future, but not completely. She's in love. Her husband loves her. That is all one can ask for in this life, in that situation. And the two are very close, it would seem, tied together by something I can't quite understand.

"Are you happy?"

Felicity catches me off guard again. I'm not sure what she means by the query, but I know her well enough not to question her. "Yes," I say. It's true. I haven't used my scissors for anything other than aiding my sewing for months now. "Are you?"

I turn to see Felicity's expression when she doesn't answer for a while. In the shadows of the early evening, she looks both forlorn and innocent, like a fallen angel. "Sometimes," she says, and I know that that is the most of an answer I will be granted.

--

Felicity does not return home to the Worthington's home in Hyde Park that night. It is late when we come to my small apartment, and I let her sleep in my own bed. My nightclothes are very loose on her, but she wears them nonetheless without as much as a snide comment. I take the couch and am quite fine with it. She needs this tonight. She needs to be alone and to be with someone else at the same time. Only a thin wall separates us, just barely blocking my snoring from her ears. But I know that she feels me from the other side of the wall and that she knows that I care. She will always be my friend, no matter how different we are.

The unspoken thought hangs between us on a gossamer thread. _We haven't lost her._ For even though no one ever expected Gemma Doyle to get married, or at least so soon after her graduation from Spence, she is our friend, and she will always be there for us. Realms or no realms, Pippa or no Pippa. We will always be the Order, reborn.

We will always be _ourselves_. Charming. Clever. Mysterious. Strength, song, and hope. And I know that wherever Gemma is tonight, she is not thinking the same thing, but she feels it in her heart. No scandal, no shocking twists, no terrible secrets could ever separate us.

We are all outsiders, but more importantly, we are all friends.

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading so far. As a note for the person who asked: I __am__ making Fee a lesbian in this. That's not what was going on with her and Ann, obviously, but she still did have feelings for Pippa and is romantically attracted to other women. The events of Chapter Two are purely circumstantial. If you've read my others fics you probably know about how much I like Simon and Felicity's relationship. Chapter Two can be taken romantically or not, depending on how you view their relationship (in this fic and in the series)._

_That being said, please review! The fifth and final chapter will be up soon, and I promise some Karma! You'll have to stick around the very end, but I'm hoping it will satisfy everyone as I've worked hard on it._


	5. The Princess

Chapter Five: _The Princess_ **Gemma**

I have found myself in his bed before, but there has never been so much comfort in the situation. This isn't just his bed now. It is my bed as well. Ours, rather, for my life is a shared life now.

He has only just fallen asleep. I pretended to do so, enjoying the moment. "I won't fall asleep until you will," he whispered into my hair, his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of my neck, his hands tangled in my ringlets. But it's nearly morning now and I knew that daylight was coming and that I wouldn't be able to sleep. I had to give him time to rest, and so I closed my eyes and pretended to slumber.

Now as I watch him from just inches away, I wonder if he dozed off unintentionally. Perhaps he knew that I was still awake. His arm is draped over my side, loosened from sleep. I don't shake it off. His touch is comforting.

I admire him as I have always done. The perfect bow of his lips, the beautiful mass of curls on his head. It's true that many disapproved of our marriage, but that didn't matter. I was surprised that so many people turned up to bear witness to it. They were surely there for the gossip, for the experience. Would I paint my hands with henna? Would I wear a sari? Would I play the part of an Indian princess?

There wasn't anything different about our wedding than any other wedding in England, though. Well, there was the fact that Kartik and I are of different races, but that doesn't matter to us. Perhaps at one time it did, deep down. It was an issue of strife between us, but the issue of race no longer even causes minor disagreements between the two of us. We are one. We are the same. We walk in one another's dreams and we will always be connected.

Kartik stirs and soon opens his eyes. "Good morning," I whisper as the sun is just rising, and I am greeted by a kiss. We lay there for some time. There is something so serene about this moment that I am sure he wants to spend it like I do. Considering things. Remembering how we got to this moment.

I smile with a light sigh. Felicity and Ann are a bit skeptical about the whole situation. They know that Kartik and I are in love but weren't sure if I would be happy in the relationship for long. Our marriage was sure to be a scandal, and they know that I can be a bit sensitive to gossip and snide comments sent my way. Tom isn't very happy about me marrying Kartik, but has come to accept the situation. He knows that Kartik is no longer involved in the Rakshana and that I love him with all my heart. He knows that we are connected on a rather deep, spiritual level. My father is very pleased, at least, and that makes me happy. He knows Kartik and he trusts him and it helps that he reminds him of better days and doesn't mind listening to his stories a thousand times. In fact, Kartik has some rather exciting tales as well, and they've always gotten along on that level, even when their relationship was solely professional. It no longer embarrasses him that Kartik was our coachman on that night in Christmas Eve. In fact, I think he is rather grateful for it.

I am done thinking, and so I turn to face Kartik and kiss his full, soft lips. He kisses me back rather sleepily, but the passion is still evident. His tongue lazily trails along my lower lip before he pulls away and slowly sends kisses down my neck and across my naked breasts.

The early morning hours pass by dreamily in this way, until we are hungry and decide to get out of bed for a bite to eat. We shall be traveling to Paris in two days' time, so we have to pack as well. It feels funny doing so, as I haven't even moved half of my possessions here into Kartik's small apartment—_our_ small apartment. Kartik leaves the bedroom first in nothing but a pair of trousers. I admire the shape of his body as he leaves the room, longing to pull him back to bed and to enjoy my wedding night once more.

I linger behind for a while, trying to locate my robe and perfume. I greatly need to freshen up. My brush lies on the bureau as if it has been there forever.

At eight, I pull aside the curtains at our window. The smell of breakfast cooking wafts from down the hall, and busy people are already mulling about on the streets. Somewhere nearby, a bird calls out, beckoning to its family. The light from outside stings by eyes, but I do not look away from it. Instead, I let my eyes adjust to the dawn, letting the tears fall where they may, for it is morning; it is morning, and there is so much to see.

**A/N:** _Yes, I stole the last line from TSFT. They're tears of pure joy, though!_

_Wow. I can't believe I'm done. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and the little twist. If you feel completely tricked, I never once said that Gemma was marrying Simon. It was implied but not stated. When Fee said that Simon was about to be married, she didn't mean to Gemma. Perhaps she meant to Lucy._

_Anyway, I hope no one feels cheated and that they liked this update! Thanks for reading this and please review. If you have any questions about the fic, ask away! Please be logged in, though, because I generally don't e-mail people who aren't._


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